


The Contingent

by arrowinthesky (restfulsky5)



Series: Not the Final Act [5]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Actor, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drama, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Recovery from major illness, Romance, Sappiness, protective!bones, therapy dogs, vulnerable!Jim, wedding vows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-21
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2019-01-20 22:12:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12442851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/restfulsky5/pseuds/arrowinthesky
Summary: Jim finds his way again.





	The Contingent

**Author's Note:**

> The fifth, and final, installment...
> 
> Huge thank yous to diamondblue4 and junker5 for their thoughts and edits on this one! <3 
> 
> The second scene has a teeny bit of angst, but most of this story is h/c with a side of sap. ;) Hope you all enjoy the read!

  

They hadn’t been up and about for even an hour yet this morning, and Jim was hounding him about it again.

He shouldn’t be surprised. Not really. Jim was an even greater passionate man than he had been before.

And when he put his mind to something, most likely he’d succeed. But...that was _then_. The past. Not now, and certainly not the future. Jim wanted to cross mountains and conquer the world when those things just weren’t possible for him anymore.

It fell to him, McCoy, to remind him of his limitations—and deal with the fallout. The fallout was just as bad as the confrontation itself. After the anger, the rage, came the silent treatment, then the utter sadness and despair that was a cross between mourning and self-pity, and, finally, an abrupt, one-hundred-eighty degree turn which meant that Jim had either moved on or forgotten.

Never before had he been so thankful that he’d worked with the elderly during his internship—geriatrics was a last minute change—and even more grateful that he’d fallen head over heals in love with this man in spite of his illness and all that it entailed and what it meant for their marriage.

He’d vowed to love Jim in sickness and in health, and by golly he was going to do just that. Nothing, not even Jim’s change in behavior and personality, was going to get in the way of that. He’d choose to be here, with Jim, and in his life, a hundred times over, no later the circumstance.

Jim heaved a breath as he prepared to no doubt argue with him again, his face red from exertion and lined with anger. McCoy worried that this stress alone would exacerbate existing problems. He would have to counter Jim’s temper with a soft answer, to alleviate the strain this placed on the younger man’s physical and mental health.

“I’m going, Bones,” Jim clenched his hands into fists. “And...and that’s final!”

“Jim, it’s in the middle of nowhere,” he patiently explained. “And if something goes wrong, or if we can’t get you to a hospital—”

“You can’t tell me what I can or can’t do!” Jim exploded, suddenly standing up.

It was too much, too quick for him, and McCoy jumped to his feet to catch him before he fell. He’d learned his lesson several weeks ago, when they’d come home from their honeymoon. Jim, happy but exhausted, had changed his tune in the blink of an eye when he saw that the airline had switched his luggage with someone else’s. He’d rallied against the company, hand shaking as he clutched his phone, but then he’d tripped on an edge of the carpet, falling and stunning himself into silence.

After McCoy had literally scooped Jim into his arms, carrying him to their bed, he had reminded the younger man, gently, that he’d wanted to use his old luggage for their trip across state. Jim had forgotten, had been looking for a black suitcase instead of his trusty gold one. Still, it had taken thirty full minutes for Jim to relax about it, and McCoy had never received an apology from him for the way he’d acted. By the time he’d calmed Jim, spooning him from behind on the bed, their hands interlaced, the younger man had forgotten what had transpired, started to play footsie with him, and begged to be kissed because “we’re finally home, dammit, and we don’t have to worry about making a scene in front of the paparazzi.”

The damn fool that he was, he’d kissed Jim until he was breathless and begging for more, forgiving him and forgetting the incident altogether. How could he be mad at Jim for these reactions that were well beyond his control?

He grasped his husband by the arms, careful to loosen his grip once Jim seemed steadier on his feet. “Listen to me, Jim,” he said, softening his voice.

“What’s there...to listen to?” Jim replied smartly, angry tears welling up in his eyes. “You have it figured out, all on your own. You, Mom... _Dad_.”

“We do. _I_ do,” he affirmed, “because I love you and care about you, Jim. As do they.”

As true as it was, it wasn’t the right thing to say.

A tear rolled down Jim’s cheek. “This isn’t caring! I can’t drive, I can’t cook, I can’t even take a piss without someone watching me. I feel like your fucking prisoner!”

He counted to ten, closing his eyes as he fought to control his temper. This wasn’t the first time Jim had challenged him, and somewhat exaggerated his limitations, nor would it be the last. It wasn’t unusual for the younger man to display behavior counter to his true nature, to break into a fit of anger or another intense emotion, at least once a day. In fact, it was expected by now and, sadly, Jim’s ‘new’ normal.

He made a mental note, however, to ask Jim’s therapist what else they could do to alleviate the fresh pain Jim felt everyday over losing his job—his acting—and the sense of purpose that had come along with it, though it was a phantom pain now at best. And, last but not least, to lessen the isolation and hurt he felt following his mother’s marriage to Chris Pike.

Jim was delighted that the man he adored and looked up to, and called ‘Dad,’ was actually his father in writing. Yet it didn’t negate the jealousy that stirred in his heart and mind that his mother would no longer see him as her first priority. That he no longer heard from her two or three times a day, but once. That he didn’t get to see her except for two times a week, instead of everyday.

What Jim constantly forgot was that for months, Winona had spent most of her time dealing with the major lawsuit filed against him because of his failure to fulfill his contract. Turned out that the film industry really was as shallow as regular folk expected it to be. Now that they’d agreed on a fairer settlement, given all the pain that Jim had gone through, and McCoy as well, Winona was devoting more of her time to Chris.

In McCoy’s mind, leaving the film industry despite Jim losing over a quarter of his savings, was good riddance.

And, in McCoy’s opinion, Jim owed them a big damn nothing.

When it came to Winona, he kept his opinions to himself. He wouldn’t even tempt fate with that argument, preferring to listen and empathize with him rather than trying to fix something that would never be fixed or fully understood by Jim.

No, he’d never tell Jim that Winona had burned out being his around-the-clock caretaker. She’d reached the end of her rope and needed to focus on herself for awhile, and maybe it was for the best. McCoy craved time alone with Jim, selfishly wanting him all to himself. Maybe it was because he’d shared Jim with the spotlight for so long, even from afar. He didn’t want to waste any time, now that he knew how much “time with Jim” was really worth.

Priceless.

At times, however, it worried him that he’d find himself in the same boat as Winona if he wasn’t careful. But then he’d look at the confusion, the helplessness on Jim’s face that had once worn a confident expression, and he couldn’t bear the thought of failing Jim that way.

Which was why he had started taking precautions, finding other ways to occupy Jim’s often childlike manner. Like jigsaw puzzles with Ben, two hundred and fifty pieces at most, or reading as therapy with Catherine. It gave McCoy opportunities to go for a run outside, meet Spock and Nyota for a quick cup of coffee, or do something as mundane as going to the grocery store. Realistically, it did his mind wonders to separate himself from Jim for short periods of time. He was only human, and Jim more so.

Of course, they enjoyed doing many other activities together. McCoy loved the challenge of finding creative ways to share everyday life with Jim. Massages in-house, therapy in the pool, reading to him aloud, taking short walks, painting by number, caring for their new dog, Gabby, to name a few.

For these reasons, sometimes it floored him that Jim felt short-changed in life. He had everything he could ever want. But then McCoy would remember the cancer, the seizures, the way things would never be the same. Jim could never return to what he was, not for all the talent or money in the world. But despite all of these changes, Jim had a desire for love like never before.

“Darlin,” he whispered, lifting his hand to cup Jim’s cheek. “We should talk about this again after we take Gabby for her walk.”

Jim shrugged out of Leonard’s grasp and hugged himself. “Right,” he muttered, his glare driving into the ground. “You go on ahead.”

“She’s yours, too,” he said. “You know how much she likes it when you play fetch with her.”

And McCoy liked it because although Jim had more strength in his arms since his release from assisted care months ago, he needed the throwing practice.

Jim swallowed and gave him the barest of nods.

It wasn’t sufficient to appease him. If Jim felt like his prisoner, he didn’t want the other man’s frustration and resentment to snowball. He had to set expectations now, even if it was uncomfortable for Jim.

“I need to hear you say that you’re okay with this,” he pressed him gently. “I won’t force you.”

Jim pulled his gaze from the floor, his eyes filled to the brim with more liquid. “Why are you so...so…” With that his tears spilled over.

“What am I so what?” he asked. “A pain in the ass? A pushover?”

Jim hugged himself for a second time, a protective gesture he did more and more these days. Pain filled McCoy’s chest that, despite all his efforts, Jim still felt the need to protect himself from him, like he expected him to yell at him or, worse, punish or fight him.

“Nice,” Jim breathed out.

“Well, for one, you look pretty.”

Jim sniffled and looked at him with both brows raised. “What?”

He shrugged. “You’re easy on the eyes, kid.”

Jim looked gobsmacked. “I’m...you’re nice to...to me because I’m...I’m pretty?”

He supposed it did sound arrogant. “Yep. What can I say? I’m shallow.”

Jim eyed him sharply. “You’re the least shallow and most patient person I know,” he countered.

“Only when my stomach’s full of coffee,” he maintained.

“True.”

“You didn't have to agree with me,” he teased with a wry smile.

His husband bit his lip. “And...the...the pretty part of it? You really mean that?”

It hurt that Jim couldn’t tell he was just kidding him about that. Of course he wasn’t nice to Jim just because he was good-looking. He’d said that in jest, though Jim was easy on the eyes. But he had to tell the truth for more selfish reasons.

He plain loved it when Jim blushed or got all flustered when he flirted with him. “Gorgeous, is more like it,” he said honestly.

Silence followed, a quiet that grew too long as he waited for Jim to say something back. Gentle teasing in return, perhaps.

But it wasn't to be. His heart broke when the younger man’s eyes teemed with regret only to be replaced by full-blown confusion.

“Bones,” Jim said after another pause, his voice small and frightened like a child’s. “What did I do wrong? I’m not sure what...what...I...what you said.” He drew a shaky breath that wouldn’t have had a place in their former life—but had a place in their world now. “What were we just talking about?”

He brushed his knuckles across Jim’s cheek, wiping away fresh tears. “It’s okay. It’s nothing to worry about, darlin’,” he said, fighting to keep the worry-filled tremble out of his voice when Jim gazed at him trustingly, and oh-so-lovingly, like his memory hadn’t just thrown him for a loop. He inwardly sighed and accepted it for what it was, another argument that never happened in the first place. “I just wanted to know if you’d like to take a walk with Gabby and me.”

“A walk? Yeah, I’d like that.”

McCoy hesitated. “You’ll go on a walk with us?”

“Of course,” Jim said, like it was the easiest choice in the world. “Why wouldn't I? She likes walking with you.”

McCoy fought a sigh. Gabby wore her feelings on her sleeve—well, paw—and Jim was still oblivious to the fact that their golden retriever longed for his attention, not McCoy’s.

McCoy glanced down at his feet, where Gabby had been splitting her attention between the two of them. Now, however, she fixated on Jim with worried eyes, her ears brought forward. She’d been trained to pick up inconsistencies in Jim’s behavior, and now was no exception.

He’d have to double check with Ben and Jim’s visiting nurse, Catherine, see if they’d noticed anything off about Jim yesterday. He triple-checked Jim’s schedule himself, but maybe Jim had missed a dose of his medication when he’d been to the vet with Gabby for her check-up. Or, maybe the stress of their argument, and the ongoing resentment Jim was obviously feeling, had simply gotten the best of him.

McCoy bent down and ruffled the hair at the back of Gabby’s neck, grinning. “How can you say no to that face?”

“Not very easily,” Jim said with a laugh.

McCoy clipped her leash onto her collar, with the sole intent to hand it over to Jim.

It was a gamble, as were many things, because Jim was still a little strange with her. Like, deep down, he thought McCoy was going to take her away from him, too, since he couldn’t take care of her himself. Or believed McCoy was going to limit how much he got to walk her, when not even a month month ago he couldn’t manage holding anything heavier than an empty dinner plate.

And that might be the truth of it. He had to rely on his instincts when it came to reading Jim, and his instincts told him that Jim feared forming an attachment to her for fear that he’d lose her, too.

“Take her, Jim,” he pleaded, and when Jim’s shoulders relaxed, he placed her leash in his husband’s hand, keeping his own hands underneath, until he was sure the young dog wasn't going to become too rambunctious at the prospect of a walk.

The younger man’s fingers tightened around the leash and he bent down as the golden retriever wriggled close to him in delight. He ruffled her soft fur with his free hand, then gently stroked her head. His eyes closed, and he inhaled slowly, as if he was memorizing everything about this moment.

And, knowing Jim, he probably was.

He slipped an arm around Jim’s shoulder and gave him a peck on the check, smiling to himself when Jim turned his head for more. “Let’s go. I know the perfect spot for a selfie.”

He somehow managed a straight-face when Jim looked at him incredulously, before bursting into a laugh.

 

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_I don’t think that even if I had all the right words in the world at my fingertips that I could ever come close to describing how precious you are to me._

_If that’s the case, either I’m not as smart as I think I am—or you are as beautiful and talented and strong as I know you are._

_All kidding aside, since we are here, and since we’ve pledged to take this step forward, together, I’m going to give it a try._

_I beg you to be patient as you listen to a man who is more likely to put his foot in his mouth than hand you flattery on a silver platter._

 

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Jim held Bones hand, deep in thought as he went with his husband into the video store. Not only had the walk been good for him, but walking Gabby had been enjoyable, too. More than he cared to admit. Maybe they were discovering that bond the trainer mentioned, after all.

He felt much better than he had before they’d left the house, though he couldn’t pinpoint why, exactly. Maybe it had been the exercise. Maybe it had been just being with Bones and that ridiculous selfie by a random road sign. He was feeling fairly happy, had even picked out a movie for them to watch later that night at Bones’s request. But just one. He’d rather order movies digitally, directly from home without the hassle, but Bones preferred that Jim get the experience of being in an actual store around actual people, where he could pick up a case and read it for himself.

To Jim, it was just therapy, nothing more, nothing less. But he dealt with it as dutifully as he could for Bones’s sake.

He handed Bones the movie, who quirked an amused brow at the selection. “A rom-com?”

He thought maybe this was new for him. Romantic comedies. He wondered what he'd liked before. “I like them.” He liked them a _lot_ , and wondered how truthful he should be. He decided to run with it. “And they get you in the mood.”

Which would be great because Jim was planning to host the post-credit party in their bed, together with a glass of wine if Bones would let him. Bones had the warmest feet, the most skilled hands, the huskiest voice. The safest embrace.

Jim couldn't wait to be pressed up close to him and enjoy all of _that_.

Bones smirked. “You get me in the mood, kid, not a damn rom-com.”

He suddenly felt warm and tingly all over, and could hardly keep his eyes off Bones, who swaggered his way to the front counter, something Jim was sure he would never be able to copy, that ass of his just perfect.

“Show-off,” he muttered under his breath, though he was smiling on the inside.

As Bones paid for that movie, as well as a western he’d picked out, Jim held back. He preferred it that way, hiding under the shadow of his ballcap, because he didn’t want anyone to get a good, close look at him here. The place was busy for a morning, for one. Two, Jim felt uncomfortable under any kind of scrutiny.

“Oh, look at what you picked out,” the girl at the register squealed when she inspected one of the cases Bones laid on the counter. “I just love him.”

“Oh?” McCoy said in a polite yet disinterested tone. “Who?”

“Why, Kevin Riley, of course,” she gushed. “Your girlfriend will love you.”

Bones turned his head and winked back at Jim. “Will she now?”

At least three other pairs of eyes followed the movement and stared right back at Jim, too. Embarrassed, he coughed several times.

“Oh, is that her— “The girl’s eyes widened as she peered beyond Bones’s shoulder. “Oh, it’s for him, you’regayandsohot, I think that’s wonderful, whydidn’tyousayso?” she rambled on.

Bones flashed her a smile full of white teeth, and Jim could see right through him. Any minute now, Bones was going to lay on his Southern charm.

“Well, Darlin’...”

The girl’s mouth gaped open.

There it was…

“I didn’t want to appear rude, ya see. My husband over there taught me better than that.”

Jim rolled his eyes.

She nodded knowingly. “My boyfriend says the same thing.” She flushed. “I mean, about me, his girlfriend. Not your husband.”

Bones winked at her. “So this is good? The movie?”

“One of the best romantic comedies I’ve ever seen, and I’ve seen DO-zens,” she emphasized, taking Bones’s card, her nails tapping it as she waited for his information to pull up. “And it’s all Kevin, believe me.”

“The actor?”

Jim sighed. He really didn’t care who was in the movie, just that the plot felt right. He wanted it to be interesting and funny. He just wanted to watch something light-hearted. A happy ending. That was all. That was all he thought he could watch these days.

Bones shrugged. “Never heard of him, sweetheart.”

She gasped in disbelief. Jim decided she was a drama queen, not necessarily flirting with Bones, though the latter certainly was possible. Bones had that way about him. “You haven't heard of him? He was in First Light of Savannah,” she cooed, handing the movies and card back to Bones.

Jim tucked the name in his memory. Sounded like something cheesy Bones would like.

“...Hearts in Las Vegas…”

He almost laughed. That was something _he_ would like.

“....oh, and he’s gonna star in the new movie that Jim Kirk was supposed to be in, If Only Stars. I read online somewhere that he was too sick to honor his contract…heard he got sued,” she finished, making a sympathetic face that was piteous at best.

A cold feeling flooded his body, from the top of his head straight down to his toes.

He was being replaced?

Of course he was being replaced.

He couldn’t be that Jim Kirk anymore.

No more acting.

No more movies.

No more.

“...a real shame what happened to him…”

Oh, God.

He didn't want her pity.

 _Anyone's_ pity.

He wanted—

He couldn’t breathe.

_He couldn’t breathe._

Bones glanced back at him, his eyes flooding with the panic that Jim felt overtaking his body. “Ma’am,” he said, backing away from the counter. “Thanks again.”

“Oh, but don’t you want to know more? I—”

“Not at this time,” Bones said firmly.

Jim stood absolutely frozen, staring at the girl fixedly, as she leaned forward across the counter, undeterred, her eyes widening as if to hold Bones’s attention, talking about this Riley kid with a complete and utterly adoring expression.

_Replaced._

_Phased out._

_Forgotten._

_No more._

“Take my word for it. You’ve got to check him out. Kevin Riley is new and different and dark,” she sighed, a hand over her heart. “Not at all like Jim Kirk, who was great for awhile. It’ll be wonderful. They needed someone like him, someone different and really young, but not too, too young, if you catch my drift. It is an adventurous love story, after all. It’ll be so much bet—”

A white-faced Bones rushed to Jim’s side while the girl kept running her mouth, now to the next unfortunate customer.

“I’m sorry,” Bones whispered frantically in his ear. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Goddammit, I’m so fucking sorry.”

Jim had no idea how he got to the car and in the backseat with his dog pressed up against him. He couldn’t feel his legs. Or his arms. Or his mouth.

Only a wet nose on his face.

He felt small and old and sick, again.

Ben, who’d stayed with Gabby while they shopped, whispered to Bones, but Jim couldn’t hear them. Nor did he care.

He just wanted to go home.

He wanted to go to Africa.

He wanted Ben to go to Africa.

He wanted his friend, Ben, to stay here, with him.

He wanted that girl to shut her mouth.

He wanted things to go back to the way they had been, though he couldn’t remember what those days had been like.

He began to cry even though he was angry inside.

He was fucking _angry_.

At his surgeons. At his therapist. At Ben. His mom. Chris. All the stupid people that could go about their lives normally.

At Bones.

“Jim?” Bones said, sliding onto the seat beside him, and he could tell just by that one spoken word that Bones was as sad and hurt as he was.

But Jim was also angry and he couldn’t seem to stop being angry.

He wasn’t sure he even he wanted to try.

“ _Jim.”_

Something in him snapped, and he curled shaking fingers into the hair on the back of Gabby’s neck. “I hate him,” he whispered, imagining the credits rolling and Kevin’s name where his should be.

“I know,” Bones whispered, his arms unusually tight and secure around him.

“ _I hate him. I hate him. I hate him.”_

He didn’t know if he meant Kevin Riley—or himself.

 

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_It’s a cliche, but it’s true._

_The day I met you, life finally began to make sense. Like I'd been walking around backwards my whole life, twisted and blindfolded for years, never knowing which way was up. But then you—_

_(Laughs) You walked in._

_That’s all it took. How can that be?_

_You smiled at me—and I took my first, lasting breath._

_You embraced me—and I knew true joy for the very first time._

_You took my hand—and I felt so sincerely loved, without ever hearing the words._

_You walked into the room—and precious, life-giving oxygen filled my lungs._

_And I knew, then, that I’d never be able to forget you._

 

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“I can’t make it today,” McCoy told Nyota over the phone. “Jim...he’s...it just wouldn't be good for him if I’m gone, even if it’s for a short time.”

“We can try again tomorrow or the day after,” she said. “But maybe you could bring Jim, too.”

“I’m not sure he’ll come, not without Gabby,” he admitted. “She’s been his rock this afternoon. It’s been hours, and she’s stayed with him this entire time on the couch.”

“I know a place that _loves_ dogs.” Nyota smiled through the phone. “A small, independent coffeeshop, but their coffee’s good. I’ll text you directions.”

He hesitated. "Gabby is a therapy dog, not a service dog, Nyota."

"So is the owner's," Nyota countered.

“Well, in that case, morning might be best.”

“Will he be able to go to the park tomorrow first? The weather will be perfect.”

He thought for a moment. The incident at the video store had been unexpected. And awful. Jim had been insulted, his acting ability trampled on by some stranger, not to mention humiliated, at being compared to a new kid on the block and _losing_.

Before cancer, Jim might have been able to shrug it off and drown his sorrows over shared drinks for a night and wake up without a grudge. Since he had brain surgery, and those damn seizures, it wasn’t going to be that easy.

“Maybe.” He'd try to stay positive.

“Spock says to tell him he can come, regardless of how he's feeling. He won’t mind, even if he arrives with a case of bedhead and morning breath, and with an attitude to match.”

He snorted. “How is that going to help?”

She laughed softly. “I think it’s an inside joke. They had been—and still are, I’m sure—close friends.”

“Yeah, maybe,” he said, drawing a slow breath. He knew for a fact that Jim didn’t talk to many of his former friends much, anymore. It wasn’t that Jim didn’t want to keep up the relationships, but he felt lost and uncertain about how to proceed, now that he’d lost those deeper connections as a result of his surgery and seizures.

“He’s our Jim,” she assured him. “Remember, he’s still healing. Life is just moving along a little faster than he can. But he’ll get there. He has you.”

 

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_Before you told me you loved me—I would’ve died for you._

_It was my job, you know. I took it seriously. Tried to separate what I felt in my heart for you from what my brain was telling me to do._

_But then it became more than my job._

_It became—you became—my passion._

_(Pauses and swallows)—My life’s greatest work._

 

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Ben would not tell his employer, but he blamed himself for Kanzi’s growing, internal turmoil.

He should have never talked about his family in Africa, and the difficulties they faced. The letters to him that showed how much they missed him and longed for him to return. The pain and suffering that had come with the world of famine and war.

Food. Water. Shelter. His family lacked these simple graces, and his confessions had wound themselves around Jim Kirk’s big heart, a heart that had been fooled into thinking it was lost.

Ben understood this feeling very well. He had experienced much strife, not limited to loss, throughout his own lifetime, though never a serious illness like Kanzi. But what had been created left in Ben’s heart, a deep, stark void, had fed into his recklessness at a young age. Before he had even been a man, he had made many terrible decisions. And, later, as an older youth, not even a man by law, he’d made the rash choice to immigrate to the United States based on his inner turmoil. Turmoil that mixed feelings of regret, sadness, and fear when his teenaged wife had not wanted him to stay—or to return—and feelings of love, determination, and hope when she’d allowed their children to write to him. Guilt when his mother questioned him for not taking her grandchildren with him despite the wishes of his wife.

He could not tell Kanzi this, for fear that the young man would experience even more regret, taking it upon himself to carry the blame for Ben’s absence when his family needed him.

“He won’t let me go, Ben,” the younger man said, plucking a blade of grass as he sat on a slight bank at the park.

Ben looked down at him from his spot by a tall oak. “He is wise, for it is a harsh land.”

And beautiful. His home. His loved ones. His land. All beautiful.

Kanzi plucked another blade of grass, before shifting his gaze away from him and to McCoy, who was running alongside their dog. The miserable, yet serious, look on Kanzi’s face was telling.

“Kanzi, I can read your thoughts,” he remarked, keeping his eye on a young couple walking along a trail, headed towards them.

Kanzi blushed. “If you could, would you go back to your home in Africa?”

Ah, yes, he’d wondered when the question would come.

He crossed his arms, narrowing his gaze as the couple turned right, now, towards a clearing. He was pleased that this happened, for he did not want Kanzi to grow panicked after witnessing his exchange with McCoy earlier this morning. “I work for you, and send back all that I can.” And he saved for his sons’ education, should their mother permit them to come to America. “They are grateful.”

Kanzi perked up.

A low rumble sounded from Ben’s chest. “There are other ways to help, Kanzi, if you know someone who is trustworthy.”

He did not think Jim Kirk would feel like he was doing all that he could, even if he gave all of his life earnings to a greater cause. Jim Kirk was the wealthiest man Ben knew, and he kept track of his employer’s monetary habits because he was fascinated by them. Kanzi did what few men would ever do, spending many of his waking hours finding ways to give it away while, for a celebrity, living a more modest life.

Kanzi’s expression broke, the air between them suddenly heavy and solemn. A second later, Gabby stopped in her tracks and barked at McCoy, who was ahead of her, several times in succession.

McCoy slowed to a walk and turned around, one hand at his temple, shading the sun from his face. “Is it Jimbo, Gabby old girl?” Ben heard him ask from afar.

She barked again, her tail wagging back and forth excitedly, and both McCoy and the dog made their way back to Kanzi.

The former actor didn’t notice his golden retriever bounding up the incline to see him. No, his head was down and shoulders slumped in a pose that mimicked a soldier’s greatest defeat. For that was what Kanzi was—a soldier. He only needed to look deep within himself to see it. The warrior within. The hope that was not lost.

“But other than going, that’s the only way I can help, Ben,” Kanzi whispered.

Ben would not shirk his duties, but he could not remain standing, not when Kanzi’s childlike spirit was crushed.

He crouched beside him, laying a hand on his shoulder while Gabby nudged Kanzi’s face with her nose. McCoy had grown quiet, becoming an observer. “Then I will help you,” Ben promised. “Together we will figure out a way.”

 

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( _Laughs sardonically) See how selfish I was? Took me awhile to pull my head out of my own ass, didn’t it?_

_But things happened, not the nice things in fairy tales, but heart-wrenching things—and we both suffered along the way. And now, after all of that, I see you. I see who you are, darlin’, and what you have to give, and what you need—and giving you what you need is the desire of my heart._

_You are my light, and I will never harm you._

_I will honor you by living, by caring, by just being, by listening…_

_By sharing this life with you, shoulder-to-shoulder._

_I can think of no better way to spend the rest of my life._

 

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After the jaunt in the park, Jim didn’t get a chance to ask Ben what he actually meant by helping him. He’d been too engrossed in his own thoughts—admittedly a selfish cycle he couldn’t break away from—about the embarrassing panic attack the day before, and then Bones had received a phone call—Jim’s therapists—which had taken up the entire car ride to their next destination, Chadwick Coffee.

As he took comfort in Gabby’s presence beside him, finding that her warm body somehow grounded him to reality, Jim tried to prepare himself for the cafe. He wasn’t sure what he thought about going there with Bones. Another outing, after what had happened yesterday? With his luck, something else would set him off.

But, he hadn’t seen much of Spock and Nyota since the wedding. They’d come to the house, mostly to talk to Bones, of course. It seemed that their roles had been reversed. Jim was the outsider now, and Bones the center of attention. Jim watched from the sidelines, and Bones juggled their life together, single-handedly.

Surprisingly, he wasn’t resentful about it. The more he thought about it, watching Bones ooze confidence with every conversation he had, answering questions about Jim that Jim couldn’t even answer for himself, the more it felt...right. In truth, Jim didn’t care to be noticed at all. He just wanted to be himself, and that person was simple. He was someone who liked hunkering down at home, spending time with just Bones, doing simple things without the distraction of phones or computers. He liked to exercise his mind, but couldn’t quite keep up with the average television show, so that was out, too. Movies were fine, since Bones would often pause the film so that he could explain anything that confused Jim. Which was a lot, things he suspected that he should know already. Like the fans. Which still confused him.

Bones never made him feel stupid. Jim was content with this simple existence. He was.

Really.

But he couldn't help, in his neediest and most trying times, wanting more.

Bones believed in him. He saw it as clear as day on Bones’s face, when it was obvious that his husband just wanted him to be happy. To be well.

Bones believed in him. Even Ben.

He wanted to believe in himself, too.

This cause—wanting to help Ben—had done something to his soul. Something good.

He felt like he was waking up slowly, as if from a dream, eyes squinting against the bright light, searching.

 

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_And, some days, I don’t know why you even chose me to walk with you._

_Me. A damned fool._

_(Pauses and breathes shakily)_

_I’ve been that fool, many times over._

_You gave me the most vulnerable parts of your mind and body to care for—when I had much to learn._

_You gave me your trust—when I least deserved it._

_And then..._

_You forgave._

 

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McCoy appreciated that Spock and Nyota had chosen the table furthest from the front door and tucked into a corner. Jim felt most comfortable there, and he—McCoy—could keep an eye on just about everyone, especially on those that came through the front door.

Ben would take care of the rest.

He slipped his arm around Jim’s shoulders as they settled in with cups of hot cocoa and coffee. The younger man leaned into him, as he’d expected. The chocolate was for Jim, who’d clammed up when Nyota had asked what kind of coffee he wanted. Rather than expose Jim’s inability to differentiate decaf coffee from caffeinated coffee, something he mixed up pretty damn often now, he’d ordered the other on his behalf without hesitation.

Jim gave him a small smile of relief, and in an instant, he’d relaxed around his old friends.

McCoy could hardly keep up with Nyota’s hands (which moved as fast as she talked) and Spock’s crazy brow wagging (which was the only way he could determine if Spock was interested in the topic of conversation) because he couldn’t look away.

It was good, damn good, to see the man he loved enjoying good company like he used to.

And even better to see Jim petting Gabby with one hand, like he’d been doing it all his life. Like they’d bonded.

Though he wanted to push it aside before he gave it any serious thought, he had a feeling that Gabby was going to be there for Jim someday when he simply couldn’t. Maybe even saving him.

It was a difficult possibility to swallow.

Nyota smiled at Gabby. “She’s beautiful, Jim. Are you feeling comfortable with her? Are you alright with the fact that she’s here to help you?”

And in the middle of Jim’s reply, when he should be polite and listen, and weigh his answer, he couldn’t help it.

Jim’s eyes were alive, again, whole and complete, his expression relaxed and content.

He’d missed this for him, for so many reasons. Jim was finally coming back to himself, but even if he was never able to do so completely, he was content if _Jim_ was content. Nothing else would do.

He found himself ignoring his coffee in favor of watching his husband. The look on Jim’s face was tempting. It was irresistible, in fact, and he cupped Jim’s face and turned it towards him, stealing a gentle kiss, which quickly changed its tune.

Their lips met and touched, tenderly, trading passion for passion, until their mouths mashed against each other's and Jim went pliant under his touch, allowing McCoy’s tongue to tease his lips apart. What felt like an electric current flowed between them, maybe because they were both aware of how public this place was.

He was thinking of putting a stop to it until a muffled moan escaped Jim’s lips. A sexy, inviting moan, in his opinion.

McCoy lost himself to the kiss.

Nyota whistled. “I want what’s Jim’s having.”

“I can make an allowance.” A chair squeaked as it was dragged across the floor. “I shall return, Nyota.”

Jim broke away from the kiss, barely, to rasp out confusedly—“Wait. What does Spock mean by an allowan-?”—before McCoy claimed his mouth, biting down gently on Jim’s bottom lip with a powerful, marking kiss.

 

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_There’s really only one thing left for me to do,_

_And only one thing I want to do._

_For you burn bright like a star; you’re magnetic, darlin’, and I can’t look away._

_You know what they say—drawn in, like a moth to flame. That’s you. My eternal flame._

_And that’s me, a winged wanderer at best, before I found you._

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Jim was still dazed when they got back home. He was pretty sure his lips were still swollen, too. “What on earth came over you?”

He touched his lips, slightly starry-eyed as he stared at his awesome and unpredictable lover. He didn’t want to think about how many people had witnessed that bit of PDA.

“What on earth came over me?” Bones repeated.

He narrowed his eyes. “Are you teasing me again?”

Bones smiled wickedly again. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“So what did come over you?”

Bones escorted him to the couch. “Isn’t it obvious?”

He shook his head, though he knew very well what Bones was going to say. He just wanted to hear it from him. “Enlighten me.”

Bones smirked and handed him the hot chocolate they’d had to take with them. Since Jim wasn’t able to drink it after Bones got carried away. Since his bottom lip had stung when it had touched the whipped topping on his cocoa.

Since the place had gotten too crowded and he’d felt himself slipping into that scary, panicked headspace again.

But the kiss...He hoped Bones would do that again someday. Kiss him like the world was ending. Bones kissing like that was almost too hot for him to handle, he thought.

He lifted his hand and pressed his fingers against his lips, wondering what it said about him to wish such a scandalized thing.

“I actually married a man who doesn’t know his own sex appeal,” Bones drawled.

“Not sure what’s very sexy about this,” he muttered. A little overwhelmed by the attention, he curled up on the couch.

“Everything about you is sexy,” Bones said quietly, easing onto a seat beside him. “Everything.”

He stared at the paper cup holding his drink. He didn’t really have an appetite for it anymore.

“Here,” Bones said, taking it from him and setting it on the coffee table. “You can have it later.”

He scooted further onto the couch, until his head rested on Bones’s lap. “Sorry I’m so lame.”

He didn’t think he’d ever grow out of this.

“You’re far from being lame.” Bones stroked Jim’s head, and hummed. “Do you realize you’ve given me the greatest life I could ever have, just because you’re _in_ it?”

He shrugged vaguely. He was becoming one of those people, the ones who were too scared and phobic to do anything.

He absently petted Gabby, who was never far from him, he realized.

“Has she always been here?” he whispered.

_Will you?_

Bones’s hand stilled over his head. “She’s been waiting for you to notice her.”

“I’m an awful person.” He struggled to keep from whining, from shaking his fist at the world.

“It’s natural to be a little put off by all of these changes. I’d be concerned if you didn’t feel this way.”

“I don’t deserve her.” He swallowed back tears. “I know I can’t go overseas. I know you’d worry about me, and I don’t want that. I know I can’t even function like a normal human being, and it’s hard on you. Fuck, do you even know how much I’ve hated myself for losing my career? For letting myself go, until it was almost too late?”

“Now, hold it right there,” Bones’s tone turned serious. “First, being ill and adjusting to your new life doesn’t mean you’re less deserving of Gabby. Neither does making what you think were bad decisions. Secondly, you can’t do this to yourself, Jim. You can’t toy with what-ifs.”

“But you know it’s true. I saw some signs, and I…” He squeezed his eyes shut before his tears betrayed him. “I was weak.”

“It’s not going to help you now to think about what you think you should have done. Jesus, Jim,” Bones breathed out. “If anyone should be beating themselves up, it should be me. It should be me, by all rights.”

“Not true,” he whispered. “Bones, it’s not your fault.”

“If I’d been in my right mind—” Bones’s voice broke off with a distinct crack.

Startled, he opened his eyes and stared up at him. His hero. He’d never really believed in that sort of thing before. Fairy tales. Heroes. But since he’d met Bones, he was at a loss as to how to explain what Bones really was to him. And he was pretty sure that without him, he’d have lost all hope. Maybe even the will to live. “You have to face it, Bones. You’re pretty much my hero.”

Bones winced. “Hero? Kid, you’ll be the death of me.”

“Let’s hope not,” he said in jest. “But you were in your right mind, and you saved me.”

Bones’s gaze was tender, his finger light and loving as he caressed his cheek. “No, Jim. I swear it was the other way around.”

 

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_I give to you my body, my heart and my soul._

_I must._

_I must._

 

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“You didn’t have to come today,” Jim said, frowning when the two black puzzle pieces wouldn’t fit. He was sure that they did. They were the only pieces that color left. “Ben is here. Gabby.”

As if on cue, his dog whined and placed her chin on his thigh, staring up at him with those soulful brown eyes of hers.

He smiled down at her, even though he didn’t feel like smiling. His mom had come over, and she seemed distracted. She hadn’t really listened to anything he’d said since she arrived. He couldn’t figure out what he’d done wrong. Maybe he should just fake being tired, get her to leave. Or, he could just be rude, which he wouldn’t have to fake as much. Seemed like _he_ was the one putting his foot in his mouth a lot lately, not Bones. At least the excursion to get coffee had been a relatively smooth one. That had been four days ago. A record. It was probably time for him to mess up.

His mom sighed. “Jimmy.”

And she stopped there.

It sounded like she was frustrated with him, and he suddenly wanted to take all his grumpy thoughts back.

He stopped trying to fit the pieces in the corner and tossed them down. “Didn’t belong there, anyway,” he muttered.

Neither did he. He wasn’t sure he belonged anywhere at all.

“Oh, Sweetie,” she said quietly, reaching across the table to grasp his forearm. “I’m sorry if I’m upsetting you. I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

He racked his brain, trying to come up with a polite and respectful reply. He was often tongue-tied, at least when it came to participating in an adult conversation. He did better with dogs. Kids, like that one boy who’d wanted his autograph several weeks ago. Bones, who didn’t give a rat’s ass whether he did or _didn’t_ talk.

“I was going through some of your things,” she said, a smile, though a bit distant, rising on her face. “Chris wanted to see some of your baby photos-”

That was news to him. “He did?”

“If you could’ve seen him.” She rolled her eyes, which was unlike her usual mannerisms.

It piqued his interest. “Why?”

“He wanted to write down stories.”

He blinked. Of him?

Winona squeezed his arm. “Before you say anything, yes, of you, and that’s one of the reasons I came over here today. To ask for your permission.”

His brow wrinkled severely. “But...why? I’m…”

Damaged. Broken. Boring.

“He thinks people would like to know more about you.” She hesitated. “I don’t know how much you remember, about...about before, Jim, but you were always very private. Other than a small circle of people, none of your fans really knew you well. Not like Leonard does, or me, or even Spock.”

“I was…” He searched for the right words. “Cold?”

She shook her head. “Not cold...a bit cool and reserved, though you were never rude to reporters. You did give at least two exclusive interviews to a major television network, because you thought their reporter asked the best questions.”

It sounded like he’d been an arrogant ass.

And, frankly, he didn’t like the thought of that. “Can I see it first?” he blurted out. She looked at him in surprise. “Dad’s...stories, I mean.”

“You’ll let him do it?”

He looked down at his hands, the puzzle that was unfinished. That probably would remain unfinished if it was left up to him. “I don’t think I remember a lot.”

“I have your diaries, written when you were older, which will help. You were very keen about keeping a private diary when you were nineteen and twenty years of age, Jim.” She pulled two books out of a bag slung on the back of her chair and placed them on the table, giving them a tap. “If you want to read them, I’ll leave them here.”

His heart lodged in his throat. Read them? Why would he want to read anything about his acting career?

“Jim?”

It was Bones, home from the store a little early. He glanced up, feeling as if his husband had saved him from a terrifying situation

He really didn’t want to talk about this anymore.

He wanted to curl up somewhere by himself, with Gabby.

Bones’s hand cupped Jim’s shoulder possessively. “What’s this about diaries?” He winked at Jim. “I’ll have to read those. That wasn’t too long before I met you.”

Jim glanced at his mom, worried. What if he’d written something embarrassing about Bones. With his luck, he had probably poured out his soul onto those blank sheets of paper.

He wouldn’t wait to find out if this was the case or not. He grabbed the books, sliding them towards him. Better to be safe than sorry, as the old saying goes.

His mom’s smile widened, and he saw how pleased she was that he was interested in them by the twinkle in her eye. “I take it, that's a yes.”

“They’re just diaries,” he complained.

He hated this kind of attention. His mom didn’t know that, but she should.

He had to keep petting Gabby to keep from shaking.

“You were always such a good writer. I bet your insights would help some young actors.” She laughed, looking far away. “I remember one night you went on quite eloquently about the fact—”

He tuned her out, staring at the closed journals. They were gold, with a touch of blue on the sides.

His mom had said he’d been a good writer, that what he’d written in them could help someone, someone like the person he used to be.

He wasn’t confident about anything he did now, but someone had had confidence in him back then. He’d been an A-list star once, according to Bones, who never mentioned Jim’s life as an actor unless Jim himself brought it up.

Ben had told him his sons enjoyed hearing about Jim’s dog, Gabby, and loved the picture Jim had printed out for him to send, to them in his most recent letter. Ben told Jim that they’d never seen a dog as beautiful as his, and his boys had felt very special to be given such a gift. Honored, even. Then, his sons’ mother had seen the photo.

She was thinking about trying to send the boys to school here now, to be with their father.

Ben didn’t say whether or not he was pleased about it, but Jim could tell that he was. There was a spring in his bodyguard’s step that hadn't been there before.

None of it would have happened if Ben had gone back to Africa. It was because he had stayed, remaining in his position as Jim’s bodyguard, that his sons were able to see the picture of Gabby, that their mother, in turn, had seen it, resulting in changing her mind.

Jim let go of the diaries and hugged himself, as when his thoughts became overwhelming. For there was one other thing he’d thought of, and it would get these diaries off his hands. Maybe even for good. But he’d have to depend on his instincts. What was left of them, anyway.

He blinked several times as he came out of his own head, and glanced up with a question on the tip of his tongue.

But his mom was staring at him with a stricken look in her eyes, and Bones was no different.

He’d forgotten that she’d been talking, and flushed. “Sorry, I was being rude again. Would you mind if we took a walk with Gabby?”

He needed some fresh air.

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_You’re stuck with now, kid._

_Forever._

_Don’t forget that._

_And to me, at least, that doesn’t seem long enough._

_I will be with you, and I will serve you, in sickness and in health._

_Before the sun rises, as we share in our hopes and dreams._

_Throughout the day and then into the night, when you battle your demons and I battle mine._

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Jim had been awfully quiet ever since his mom’s visit. That had been over four days ago. McCoy had been forced to read his body language in order to figure out what he needed, for he couldn’t get a word out of Jim, edgewise.

He’d clammed up. McCoy didn’t know if it had been the topic of discussion that day, Chris’s interest in sharing some of Jim’s life as a child and as a young actor with the public, or the phone call he’d made in private. Or all three.

Whatever it was, it was happening today. Or so he thought. Jim kept glancing at the front door whenever he crossed the wide hallway, which was practically every hour.

McCoy saw that he was getting up, faithful Gabby at his side, to walk there again, and got up with him. “Mind telling me what’s making you so restless?”

Jim turned to him with wide, unfocused eyes. “I think I made a mistake. Oh, God, I did. I don’t know where I got such a crazy idea, but it’s too late now.” He was shaking. “I fucked up, Bones, and I gotta...I don’t think I can do it. The diaries…I can’t, I can’t, the diaries, you have to, Bones. I...I can't—”

McCoy, worried and concerned, held Jim by his shoulders, peering into his face. “Jim, what are you talking about?”

One of the house staff suddenly appeared in the doorway, hesitating. “Mr. McCoy, sir?”

“Yes,” he said, not taking his eyes from Jim.

“A young man is here to see Mr. Kirk. He says Mr. Kirk is expecting him.”

McCoy thought Jim would surely respond to the maid’s absurd statement, but Jim was staring straight ahead, like he hadn’t even heard her. He sighed. He’d have to reschedule this ‘appointment,’ whoever it was at the door. “Who is it?”

“A Mr. Riley, sir.”

His gaze snapped to the maid. “Riley? As in Kevin Riley?”

“Yes, sir.”

Of all the damn…Kevin Riley was the last person he’d expect Jim to invite into their home. “Tell him that my husband is indisposed at the moment,” he ordered in a low, even voice. “But that I will speak with him if he would like to wait.”

“Of course.”

“Ben,” McCoy said to the quiet man in the corner of the room, and folded Jim into his arms.

The younger man seemed to wilt in the embrace, until McCoy bore all of Jim’s weight. He didn’t want to let go of Jim, but he had to sort this out.

The bodyguard came up beside him. “I’ll take care of our brave Kanzi,” Ben said softly. “I think the rest you must handle.”

He had no idea what Ben meant, or what crazy fool thing Jim had done this time to work himself up in this state again.

But it didn’t matter that he didn’t know. He trusted Jim, even if those things that were a part of the old Jim buried deep down, or lost, just like Jim had trusted him.

“Okay,” he said quietly. He kissed the top of Jim’s head and, as carefully as he could, transferred the distracted and silent younger man into Ben’s arms. He watched Ben carry Jim out of the room and ups the stairs, followed by faithful Gabby, relieved that there would be some distance between his husband and whatever was coming next.

And all he could think about as he walked to their formal living room was Jim, that Ben was correct in calling him brave, and that this Riley kid better be worth Jim’s courage.

 

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_I pledge to you my all, my everything,_

_All that is within your sight,_

_And that which only you will find hidden, in the depths of my heart._

_It is yours._

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“And, welcome back. I’m Blake Hampton, still here with the very talented Kevin Riley, talking about his forward in the bestselling new book about another actor we all know and love, Jim Kirk. Mr. Riley, is it true after all these months, that you’ve never met Mr. Kirk?”

Kevin smiled. “I believe it’s Mr. McCoy-Kirk.”

Hampton looked startled and intrigued. Leaning forward, he said, eagerly, “I was not aware his surname had been changed.”

He grinned. “No one was...until now.”

“And you didn’t mention it before…?”

“Jim told me not to mention it until after your first commercial break.” He wished he could snap a photo of the reporter’s face. “He said it would keep your viewers interested, while you talked about where the profits of Chris’s book go.”

To his credit, Hampton didn’t miss a beat. “You seem to be on a first name basis with both the father and son,” he commented. “How can that be, when you yourself claim you’ve never met Jim?”

“We text.” He shrugged. “Pretty much all the time. It’s how Jim communicates.”

“Does this “faceless mentorship” bother you?”

“Not in the least,” he answered honestly. “As we discussed about before the break, sometimes unfortunate things happen to people and we have to live with the results. It’s how we deal with our misfortunes that matters. I don't know about you, but I think letting someone write a three hundred page book about your entire life, including some of the dirt people like to gossip about, and the illness people like to spread rumors about, is pretty courageous. And if he needs to just text or send emails, for the sake of his mental health and from the comfort of his home—with the smartest, most adorable dog by his side, by the way—I think he’s earned it.”

Hampton tipped his head. “I find I must agree with you, and I hope others will extend Mr. McCoy-Kirk the same courtesy in the future. Now, tell us more about the Geoffrey M’Benga Foundation.”

Kevin straightened his spine. “Now we’re talkin’. I could talk about this for hours.”

Hampton held up a hand, stopping him. “We have fifteen minutes.”

He grinned. “I was just kidding. I’ll make it short, so people can get to the phones. It was Jim and Ben’s vision, beginning a year ago today, to raise enough money to help build and support much needed primary schools and wells in the more isolated places of Africa, such as Ben’s home…”

 

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When Bones finally slipped onto the bed, behind him, Jim felt the rest of his tension melt from his body. He’d been too nervous to watch, and had opted to go to bed early, with Gabby at his feet as usual.

He knew the project was in good hands now. He was the foundation’s backbone, his reputation as a Hollywood star drawing interest and donations, as well as his start-up money, but his father and his friends—and his new friend, Kevin—were the muscles, working through the details and managing it well.

He could let it go.

_He could let go._

Bones leaned over Jim’s shoulder and lightly kissed his forehead. “You did good, kid,” he said huskily, his hand warm and low on Jim’s hip.

Jim turned over and faced Bones, tracing circles on his husband’s bare chest, surprised to see that he’d shimmied out of most of his clothing without Jim hearing him. “You watched it?” he asked after a moment. “The entire interview?”

“Wouldn’t have missed it,” Bones said, his voice deepening as he took Jim in his arms, his hand roaming further down his body and under the covers.

Feeling drowsy, but not sleepy enough to push him away, Jim moaned his encouragement when a hand found the waistband of his boxers, then palmed him, the weight of Bones’s hand filling him with desire.

“Bones, please,” he rasped, longing for him to take him apart.

Bones’s darkening eyes flickered in acknowledgement, and he quickly pulled Jim’s boxers off. Then, in one smooth movement he was on top of Jim, his toned physique straddling his hips, rolling his body forward. It was enough for Jim to thrust his hips upward, seeking more.

Bones obliged, threading his fingers through Jim’s, the alignment of their bodies, moving together, setting his desire alight. His eyes closed in ecstasy as the silence, broken only by sighs and moans, swelled into a moment of bliss, Jim teetering on the edge of climax.

Bones was a slow, intense yet gentle lover. Jim knew the older man would keep him like this, waiting and expectant, experiencing constant pleasure all night, if he could.

“Wouldn’t miss this, either,” Bones drawled, his breath hot on Jim’s ear. “What you do to me, darlin.”

He opened his eyes and stared up into Bones’s inviting eyes, eager but patient, lost but found. He knew he would love this man forever—and knew that he would be safe and loved in return. No matter the circumstances, when it came to Jim, Bones always kept his promises.

Bones was it for him, and it was more than enough. He didn’t have to be afraid of being too ill, or too frightened, or too insignificant. In Bones’s eyes, he was an imperfect man but the perfect mate for him.

But he needed to know he’d made the right decision to forgo the interview himself, for his own sake.

“What you do to me,” Bones whispered again, his eyes probing Jim’s so deeply that he realized his lover could see right through him. “You, Jim. Only you.”

Bones lowered his head, searing Jim’s mouth with an endless, burning kiss that awakened the fire in them both, and unleashed their ever-growing passion.

“Need you, Bones,” he pleaded breathlessly, gripping the older man’s back in desperation.

“You’ve got me, Jim,” Bones rasped, a skilled, capable hand wrapping around Jim’s cock, now wet with precome, and stroking it with sure fingers. “I'm all yours, baby. All yours.”

He groaned as Bones pumped his cock relentlessly, soon feeling the pull of his impending orgasm, but he needed his lover’s affirmation. “Gonna…”

“That's right, darlin’. Come for me, Jim,” Bones ordered huskily, and with his mouth at the sensitive curvature of Jim’s neck, lightly bit his bare skin.

Jim felt a brief flash of pain, the foreplay satisfying but shortened for his sake, and instantly released at the welcomed demand, spilling over into his lover’s hand.

“So, so good for me, Jim. So sexy and good, just let it go, darlin’,” Bones coaxed, as Jim’s vision shattered, breathless sounds of pleasure escaping his lips. “You're safe here with me. Always safe.”

He surrendered to each wave of his orgasm, reduced to helplessness beneath Bones’s touch and words of love, sinking deeply and weightlessly into his lover’s protective embrace and never wanting to come out of it.

 

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_I pledge to you my love, during times of great happiness and of sadness and every blessed second in between._

_No sacrifice is too great._

_No distance too far._

_To steal a phrase—from that movie you like and could watch for hours (smiles)—You've bewitched me, body and soul._

_And I, Leonard Horatio McCoy, promise to love, adore, honor, and cherish you, James Tiberius Kirk..._

_...my darlin’ Jim._

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading and following this verse! I've really enjoyed writing about the Jim and Bones in this series, could probably go on forever with it if I had the time, but I think this is the final part, unless inspiration strikes me later to write Jim and Kevin actually meeting face-to-face. Or, I'll just leave that idea to your imagination, and YOU can fill in the blanks. I'd love to hear from you about this last part! <3 Also, Gabby needled her way into my heart so much that I'm going to use her again in another fic, my WIP, And If I Stand Next to You. :)
> 
> I'd love to connect with you on Tumblr. I usually go on once a week now, and I'm planning on posting a preview(?) of something this week, a 3k word excerpt from a story I'll be writing eventually. ;) Thanks, again! XX


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